


Triumph

by emei



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Consent Issues, F/F, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-16
Updated: 2007-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-04 03:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/389278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emei/pseuds/emei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘There are candy hearts everywhere, Hannah Abbott is crying and Romilda knows what triumph tastes like.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Triumph

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a "Sweethearts" Valentine's Day challenge.

The taste of a breaking heart is sweet on her lips, always the most saccharine of sensations. Yes, triumph tastes like candy hearts with pumpkin juice dribbling down one’s throat.

Explosively giddy, Romilda laughs loud enough to disturb the cupids fluttering beneath the roof. Abbott has tears in her eyes, they’re trickling down her cheeks now and Romilda has a sudden desire to lick them of her face. She thinks that seawater salt would go well with the shattering hearts. And the taste of Abbotts face fascinates her, surely different from the skin on her thighs.

“Get a grip, would you,” she says and watches Abbott’s lips tremble. Abbott sniffs and mumbles something even Romilda can’t quite hear, something about _wanted_ and _trusted_ and _believed you_. She looks quite ridiculous with her hair all made up and her face turning redder each moment. Romilda wants her more than ever, the quivering of her lips and lost look in her eyes.

Abbott makes a move to push her chair back and leave, but Romilda says, “You’re not going anywhere yet, Miss Abbott”. And so she stays.

There are couples all around them, boys trying not to look as uncomfortable as they feel and girls giggling and blushing. Romilda is sure that they think she’s comforting Abbott after a hard break-up or a lousy date. She thinks Abbott would prefer that it was true.

Romilda leans over the table and whispers to Abbott everything she needs to hear. The details of what will happen if Abbott opens her mouth too much – the stories that will spread like wildfire through the dormitories, the anonymous owls that will be sent to her parents.

Their table has a pink tablecloth that falls all the way to the floor. Romilda eyes it, and then considers the bustle of the waitresses and the cupids’ songs that drown all other noise.  
“Oh, oops,” she says. “I just dropped my earring. You’ll find it for me, won’t you Hannah?”

Abbott sniffles some more, but gets off her chair and crouches on the floor. It gives Romilda a delightful view down her shirt, but she isn’t satisfied yet.  
“I don’t see anything,” Abbott says.  
“Maybe it rolled in under the table,” Romilda says, then leans down and whispers again so just Abbott can hear. Her eyes widen and start to fill up again so wonderfully fast.  
“Why aren’t you looking for it?”

Slowly, Abbott edges closer to the table. Romilda lifts the tablecloth, and she crawls in. When nothing happens apart from Abbott bumping against her leg, Romilda pushes impatiently at her with her feet.

She can feel Abbott’s wet breath against her thighs, and as she crushes another sugary candy heart against her teeth Romilda thinks that yes, this is how triumph tastes.


End file.
